On seeking universal solutions
Soundtrack: Eternal ā Sleep
Ā My search of āThe styleā began when I was around 12. I cross-dressed, kept my hair very short and refused to acknowledge my gender because my classmates and upperclassmen didnāt hesitate to let me know how ugly and āmanlyā I was for a girl. I thought I could escape female beauty standards by bucking femininity. Cue more ridicule.
Years went by; Iād copy others but not develop a signature look or even a scheme for my outfits.
In the last year or so, I was set on building a capsule wardrobe because it seemed straight-forward ā make shit match. I bored of the available items long before Iād managed to build an entire wardrobe, so I kept buying eccentric low-quality pieces Iād get tired of after a couple of wears, briefly downgrade them to āhomewearā, then get rid of them ā the pattern from before I tried the capsule approach to my wardrobe kept repeating. I kept spending time and money, only to constantly be out of clothes to wear. Sometimes quite literally.
This made me deeply unhappy, as it reflected my lack of a healthy self-identity and needlessly complicated something as simple as getting ready for the day.
After numerous failed attempts at acquiring a sense of personal style, I finally managed to stop buying a weekās worth of clothes at a time because of my ongoing identity crisis in the last month or so.
I thrift 95% of my clothes due to a combination of stinginess, disdain for current fashion trends and not wanting to be bothered while browsing. I couldnāt justify buying new to myself and hit up the thrift shops with a friend. Of everything I tried on, I brought one sweater home. I want a pair of dark blue, flared jeans and more turtleneck sweaters, maybe some flannels ā but donāt need them. Instead of panic-buying shit, I asked myself ā āIs the fabric nice? Does it fit? Am I gonna wear it as an everyday thing?ā The last three times I went out looking for clothes, I came home with nothing. Was it worth it? Ā Yeah, cause Iām not gonna throw away that sweater.
What Iād ignored before is that I was highly suggestible, didnāt know what I wanted long-term and used to always go shopping in a mood. I was also dead-set on only showcasing one facet of my personality through what I wore, whether itād be the metalhead or the femme.
Those needed to be fixed first, just like my self-esteem when I was 12 instead of directly going to not presenting as female.
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The capsule wardrobe seemed like a universal solution to multiple problems.
This type of thinking extended to almost all areas of my life.
I engaged in black-and-white, all-or-nothing thinking; thought in patterns (thanks, high school), grouped phenomena, grouped events and people together to the detriment of reaching a helpful conclusion.
When I was younger, I had to organize an unpredictable world in a way that made sense.
Astrology, psychology and numerology were the sources of some of my āuniversal solutionsā. Type people according to their charts, gauge compatibility using Life Paths, see if their behaviors fit any mental disorder if they wrong you. Look for clues as to how your life would go, again, by reading charts again and again and a hundred times more. Iād spin my wheels on a problem for literal years.
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I thought I could solve my problems if only I understood them.
Now, Iām safe and I can let things be. Iām unlearning the seeking of patterns and explanations outside of myself. Iām glad I finally saw how wrong I was. Now I know that not all can ā or has toĀ be ā understood to be resolved.
Order is in the disorder.
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